Special Investigations Agency: Primordial

by Denise A. Agnew

  “Sorry,” she said a little breathlessly.

  Before she could move, he slipped his muscular arm around her shoulder and kept her close.

  “Let me go,” she said with a calm tone.

  “I think I heard you say that once before. I don’t think so.”

  Irritation welled inside her. What kind of stupid game was he playing? “Look—”

  “Shhh.”

  Her mouth opened on a protest, but he interrupted when he spoke in Spanish to the driver. Eduardo gave a bark of laughter.

  “What did you say?” she asked, feeling like a broken record and filled with resentment.

  “That you’re on the rag and a bit testy.”

  His gall made her want to kick him in the teeth. “You bastard.”

  He grinned and looked way too delighted. “I’ve been called worse.”

  Furious with his pig-like manners, she strained back against his enveloping arm. “I can imagine.”

  He leaned down and nuzzled her ear, whispering low. “Play along, damn it.” His hot breath puffed into her ear and made her shiver in warm delight. “We’re staying at a hotel tonight, then a limo is coming to take us to Rancho La Paz in the morning. During this trip we’re posing as a couple.”

  Right. She believed that as if she believed the moon was made of cheese. Did this guy think that because he surpassed Adonis in the looks department that she would believe his waist-high excrement?

  She pulled back from the intoxicating touch of his mouth against her ear. Then she gave him a seductive, placating smile and leaned as close as she could to murmur in his ear. His musky exotic scent and the heat of his body felt too arousing for comfort.

  “Bullshit,” she said.

  He frowned, all amusement dissolved. He slipped his hand into her hair and tilted her head so his lips grazed her earlobe and the husky purr in his voice sent new curls of sensation into her belly. “I guess Section Chief Tudor was afraid you wouldn’t do it if he told you. I am not bullshitting you.”

  She whispered into his ear. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Start believing it. The characters we’re dealing with don’t fight fair and they don’t give a shit we’re Americans. They will kill us if they realize what’s really going on. I’ll tell you more about our cover when we get to the hotel. If you want to get dead quickly, then don’t listen to me. You’re in my territory now and I know Puerto Azul well. Do what I say and survive.”

  Emotion seemed scarcely harnessed inside this man. A volcano of seething desires and complications hovered right on the edge. He cupped her face with his other hand, brushing his fingers over her jaw in a comforting, sweet caress. The touch of a man in love with his woman.

  Enforced into intimacy within less than an hour of meeting him again, she had difficulty understanding her physical response. Other than tiredness, dehydration, and pure lust, she had no excuse for feeling this way. She doubted the first two factors could make her that susceptible. She settled for lust.

  Bare inches separated their lips; she half expected him to kiss her. Keira sensed a feral intensity that broke all rules and remained leashed for the present. Any kiss he bestowed would be ravenous and earth-shattering. She shivered and wished he’d abandon his game. Beneath the thin cotton stretch of her tank top, her nipples pushed against the sport bra in reaction to continual physical contact. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the untamed light in his eyes or experience a primordial reaction. She tried to relax under his touch but the tension humming between them made her want to scream in frustration and confusion.

  She made the mistake of glancing at his mouth.

  When her gaze darted back to his eyes, she saw molten emotions boiling inside the dark depths, including desire. If she didn’t speak right now, she knew this man would kiss her.

  “Maybe you’re telling the truth about the couple cover,” she said softly into his ear, “but I won’t believe it until I hear it from Mac Tudor myself.”

  He looked like he wanted to argue, but thought the better of it. She turned away from the fascinating likelihood that Zane Spinella wanted to kiss her, and endured his arm around her shoulders as she absorbed the landscape out the window and tried to relax.

  “Music, señor?” Eduardo asked.

  “Sí. Something hard. I need to stay awake.”

  “Eh…you like country or heavy metal?” Eduardo asked.

  “I like both, but I think heavy metal would be great.”

  Eduardo’s radio blared static until he adjusted the tuner and came up with, to her complete surprise, a station featuring good ol’ rock. A heavy rock song by an American group spilled from the radio.

  Unable to help it, Keira released a laugh.

  She looked at Zane and he said, “Not exactly heavy metal, but I like it.”

  Sounding as eager as a puppy, Eduardo asked, “You do like it?”

  “It’s fine, Eduardo.”

  She loved the sexy tune, and having a muscular body pressed against her while she listened served to ratchet up her libido. Soon the lyrics repeated in her head and she wanted to sing them, caught up in the rhythm. Heat in your veins so high, you will go insane.

  Suddenly Zane’s voice uttered the words in a dynamic, sexy singing voice. “Your desire is burning hot and you want to do it again.”

  She stared at him a second in amazement. “You sing very well.”

  He winked, his expression saying the song was for her, to her. “Thanks.”

  “Most definitely,” Eduardo said from the front seat.

  She couldn’t help chuckling.

  Zane didn’t sing again for awhile, and she wondered if her observation had made him shy. Nope. Not much chance of Zane having a reticent bone in his body. Confidence came from him in tangible vibrations, a man with strength both physically and mentally.

  “Take me quick, do it now.” Zane’s voice flowed over her in a hot, velvet wave. He paused, then continued. “How hot can our love be…”

  Eduardo started singing along with Zane, his voice crackling and heavily accented. When Eduardo hit a discordant note, she winced and Zane grinned. Nope, Ricky Martin, the sexy Latin singer, didn’t have anything to worry about.

  Well, okay…Zane might give Ricky a run for his money.

  “You go, Eduardo.” Zane added another phrase in Spanish.

  “Stop that,” she said.

  Zane glared. “What?”

  “Slipping in little segues in Spanish.”

  “Don’t worry, Miss,” Eduardo said, gesturing elaborately with his right hand. “He didn’t say anything bad about you this time. In fact, he said—”

  Zane clamped a hand on the driver’s shoulder and squeezed. “Can it while you’re ahead, Eduardo.”

  “Can it?” The man asked in confusion.

  “Stop trying to help,” Zane said.

  “Oh, sí.”

  The driver went silent and Zane sang increasingly suggestive lyrics.

  She tried in vain to concentrate on the city outside, but as the tune continued, all she could hear was Zane’s incredible voice making love to the lyrics. Her pulse fluttered and quickened, then her heart took up an excited new cadence. Sex and sin seemed to fill the cab, and her body responded to the torrid words and the liquid fever in his voice. Heat filled her face as his fingers trailed over her shoulder and then down in a repetitive caress both casual and designed to inflame.

  Damn him. He knows just what he’s doing.

  When the next song came along, something unfamiliar, he stopped singing. And not any too soon. If he’d kept performing in that stunning voice she might have caught on fire. He also stopped stroking her shoulder and arm.

  Despite her heightened awareness of Zane and Eduardo’s unsafe driving, she managed to take in the scenery with some pleasure.

  She’d picked up a travel guide on Puerto Azul that outlined most everything she wanted to know. San Cristobal, the capital of Puerto Azul, had developed into a hub of tourism, agriculture,
electronics exports, textiles and clothing, fertilizer and plastic. She knew this from the small fact sheet tucked into the folder in her carryon baggage.

  She supposed she should be grateful Zane knew the lay of the land. She couldn’t recall the last time she felt more out of her element and vulnerable. She tried to turn her mind away from chaos and concentrate on the world outside the cab.

  A dazzling array of life flourished in the countryside, a place of contrasts where nature fascinated and challenged humans. Impressions bombarded her as the lush landscape formed outside the cab window. In the far distance, toward the south, she saw the large San Cristobal Plateau and knew somewhere near the rocky outcropping Rancho La Paz resided and so did its owner, Ludwig Haan. San Cristobal’s population was around two hundred and seventy-five thousand people and the city bustled like a much larger enterprise.

  Tall skyscrapers reached for the intense blue sky, their glass and metal bodies a tribute to this county’s modernization. As they sped along an amazingly modern four-lane highway, she saw a graveyard full of crypts nearby. Warehouses rose toward the center of the city not far away, their redbrick structures forlorn. Stucco office designs spoke of heavy Spanish influence.

  They left the highway and dipped deeper into the city, toward the center of a busy metropolis almost as modern as anything she knew in the United States.

  Moments later they turned down a palm-lined four-lane avenue. She realized she’d become so distracted by Zane she didn’t know whether they went north, south, east or west.

  Eduardo pointed toward a ten-story modern building not far ahead on the right. “Hosteria El Sosiego.”

  They turned into the circular drive under the hotel awning with an audible screech of tires. Eduardo helped them unload her luggage, and sputtered happily when Zane handed him a healthy tip.

  Zane gestured toward the cab. “Get seatbelts in that deathtrap before we call on you again.”

  The short man’s eyebrows shot up. He dug a card out from his shirt pocket and handed it to Zane. “You call on me again?”

  “Tonight. For dinner. I made reservations at The Imperial.”

  “Sí.” Eduardo’s grin went wide. “Of course. Right away.”

  He jumped back into the cab and took off with more noisy tires and billowing exhaust.

  Keira waved her hand in front of her face and coughed. “Lovely.”

  A bellhop wheeled her luggage into the hotel, and as they entered the lobby, she took in the interior. Traditional accoutrements appealed to her more than glossy coldness, but she admired the bold décor.

  Ultramodern and sleek, the lobby screamed sophistication. Huge windows showed the tropical garden landscape toward the back of the hotel past the huge lounge area. The dynamic foyer featured a gigantic silver and crystal chandelier. Toward the middle near the lounge large palms and other tropical vegetation she couldn’t identify graced the area. She half expected to see birds fluttering around, or maybe monkeys swinging from the giant plants in the center. Well-heeled guests strode about clad in clothes that spelled money. She allowed herself four seconds to feel dowdy.

  Then she saw something that made her pause. At least three men positioned around the lobby wore S.W.A.T.-like dark navy gear. They held serious automatic weapons.

  Out of instinct she stopped. “Who are those men?”

  “Hotel security.” He didn’t look the least phased. “Tourists are easy marks, even in Puerto Azul. If you’re ever in this lobby without me, one of those armed guards will be by your side the whole time.”

  Hair on the back of her neck prickled at the implication. “Even among all the posh surroundings it isn’t totally safe?”

  One of his dark, thick brows twitched. “Have you ever been anywhere on earth that is totally safe?”

  “No. I guess not.”

  She started toward the check-in desk when he clasped her upper arm gently. “Where are you going?”

  “To check in.”

  He glanced at the bellhop and smiled, then back at her. “I already have our room, darling. This way.”

  Brimming with agitation, but not wanting to blow their cover, she smiled weakly. “Oh, of course.”

  Zane insisted on lugging her bags to the elevator without the bellhop’s assistance. Perhaps he wanted to show her how strong and macho he could be, and the idea amused her.

  As they waited for the elevator, she glared at her partner in crime. “One room?”

  His expression didn’t even change. “We’re a couple, remember?”

  An elevator opened and they slipped inside. After pushing the button for the eighth floor, he leaned one shoulder against an elevator wall and stared at her, his gaze admiring. He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, his fingers nonchalantly curved toward his zipper. Keira drew in a breath, her face going hot as she noted the generous bulge again. Her gaze snapped up to his and his eyes showed a knowing fire. Damn the man. He knew what she was thinking as surely as if she’d screamed the words.

  Careful. This guy isn’t someone to play with and give the wrong idea. Staring at his crotch must cease and desist this moment.

  Besides, SIA agent or not, Zane Spinella might be dangerous and unscrupulous.

  Zane started to sing again, the words caressing her ears. “My blood is in flames, my fever raging, I’m so hot for you.”

  Incredible. She tried to remember if she’d ever met a man with more cheek in her life and couldn’t come up with anyone in recent memory.

  Again the suggestive lyrics followed. “Come on darling, you don’t have to read my mind to know how I feel.”

  Against her will her skin started to heat once more. Her body had become a traitor to her since she stepped off the airplane and saw this rascal. He sauntered away from his station against the wall and came toward her.

  “I can show you serious lovin’ like you’ve never known.”

  In any case, she had to get him off track and make him think of something besides serenading her. “So does the SIA—”

  “Keira.” His voice came out strong and sharp. Before she could blink, he came so close she bumped into the elevator wall. He planted his hands on either side of the wall next to her head.

  Gee, this feels familiar.

  He whispered in her ear. “Don’t say anything about SIA while we’re in the elevator.”

  “But—”

  He pressed closer, until his body almost touched hers. “God, I’ve missed you so much, my love.”

  Stunned by his quick movement and the husky passion in his voice, she couldn’t speak. Oooookay. Did he think the elevator had bugs planted or had he decided to have a little fun at her expense?

  Heat from his body made her nerve endings sizzle with sensory overload. She opened her mouth to fake her delight in seeing him, to try out her college acting classes from about a bazillion years ago. The unbelievable temperature flaring in those shadowy eyes short-circuited everything she planned to say. Then she didn’t get a chance to speak at all.

  His mouth came down on hers. A quick, hot enveloping of her lips that couldn’t have lasted more than a few moments, but felt like eternity. Enough time for her to feel the expert devouring as he caressed and challenged. His kiss went deep without being too intimate, a dominating touch that held back an essential ingredient. Stirring sexuality, a brazen desire to taste her more deeply hovered in his intentions but didn’t form. She knew it, in some weird way, that he wanted more from her than this cursory meeting of lips. Then, to her amazement, her mind went blank with pleasure.

  Her nipples prickled, turning hard. Every one of her senses came on line, her skin heightening with sensitivity, her body yearning towards his a little. A tingling coasted over her and she couldn’t help responding the tiniest bit to his kiss. A breathy moan left her throat.

  He moved back suddenly, his eyes scorching her. God, when had a man ever looked at her like that before? As if he wanted to possess, to take, to fuck her blind?

  Never.

  F
rozen to the spot, she didn’t move when the elevator door pinged and opened.

  He moved out of the elevator first. She jerked out of her daze and followed him. She’d allowed Zane to “fake her out of her jock” as one of her old boyfriends used to say. Embarrassment flooded her face for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day. He acted like nothing extraordinary occurred in the elevator, while her body continued to hum with unable-to-deny arousal.

  “Something wrong?” he asked. “Don’t like my singing voice?”

  Surprise him. Go ahead and give him something to contemplate. “You know I like it, sweetie pie. But don’t you think it’s a little brazen for you to sing suggestive lyrics to me out in public?”

  He flashed a satisfied grin. “You know I’m a brazen kind of guy.”

  He stopped in front of room 888 and slipped the key card into the lock. With an audible snick and flashing green light, the door opened.

  He rolled the bags into the room and left them next to the queen-sized bed near the large window looking out at San Cristobal Plateau.

  One bed.

  Oh hell.

  She glanced at the long, comfortable-looking sofa sleeper on the other side of the room. Good. He could sleep there.

  When she opened her mouth to speak, he put up one hand and shook his head. He reached into his pocket and drew out his wallet. A strange-looking device, slim like a credit card, emerged. He held it up and started walking around the room with the card held out in front of him. A bug tracking device, perhaps?

  “Darling, do you think you’d like a hot bath before we go to dinner? We have reservations at seven-thirty,” he said.

  Okay, she could do this. “That would be wonderful. I’m just absorbing this wonderful room. It’s so beautiful.”

  She wasn’t fibbing.

  The luxurious suite, decorated in a blend of navy, gold, silver, and green, had an old-world flavor. Everything a couple could want, with a mini-bar, microwave, and gas fireplace. She strode toward the bathroom and flicked on the light. Double sinks, a large-enough-for-two whirlpool tub, a vanity, and a tiled shower big enough for a football team filled the bathroom. A shaving kit sat by the sink nearest the doorway, a clear sign of his masculine presence. At one end of the enormous bathroom she saw a walk-in closet.